


Chaos of the Sun

by Morpheus626



Category: Papillon (2018)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:47:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25041874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morpheus626/pseuds/Morpheus626
Summary: A sort of rewrite of the boat escape, how I wish it could have gone maybe. Just a short but sweet glimpse into it.
Relationships: Henri "Papillon" Charriere/Louis Dega
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	Chaos of the Sun

By all means, they shouldn’t have made it. 

He could sense it, as fully as he could taste the salt from the seawater in his mouth, feel it drying on his skin, see it crust on his glasses. 

But there they were, more or less alive. 

The last wave had knocked Papillon out though, rough enough to nearly toss them both from the boat. They’d clung to each other, but not quickly enough to pull Papillon away from the side of the boat, where he’d hit with what would have been a sickening thud, if they could have heard anything over the sound of the water. 

Papillon’s eyes fluttered as Louis stepped out of the boat, trying to drag it further onto the empty beach with bones and muscles so exhausted that it didn’t even hurt to move, just felt more numb somehow. 

“We made it,” he said, hoping it might rouse Papillon somewhat. 

But he only sighed and let his eyes slip shut again.

The concern ate at him, to make sure Papillon was okay. But he couldn’t do that if the boat floated away on him. 

It took some reserve of strength that he didn’t know he had to finally get the boat safely up onto the sand, helped only marginally by the tide. 

Then, however, was moving Papillon. 

“You’ve got to help me get you up,” he huffed as he reached under Papillon’s arms, to try and heave him out of the boat, even as his own arms shook with the effort. “Please, Papi. Give me something.” 

That earned him a frustrated moan from Papillon, but not much more.

“Henri,” he whispered softly into his ear. “Try, for me. You’ll feel better out of the boat.” 

That did something. 

Papillon’s eyes fluttered open. “Louis-” 

“Shh. Just help me move you.” 

“My head…” his eyes closed again, and he grumbled. 

“I know,” Louis soothed as he managed to tug Papillon halfway out of the boat. 

Finally, he flopped out of Louis’ arms and onto his stomach, crawling up the sand, only to stop after a few movements forward. 

“Papi,” Louis sighed, but he could hardly blame him. He wanted to just lay down too, and he hadn’t even gotten his head bashed against the boat. “Fine. But no complaining if the sand scrapes your back.” 

He flipped him back over, and took up his position again, dragging him after grabbing under his arms, the taut and admittedly nice to look at muscles on Papillon’s body now feeling like weights. 

He wasn’t sure how far was really safe, but he knew he could go no further, not without a break of his own. They were at a cave near the top of the beach now, formed of rock and sheltered by palm trees and other foliage. It seemed empty, and that was about as high as his standards for shelter could go for the moment. 

Now, minor celebration.

“We really made it,” he sighed as he flopped on the sand beside Papillon. “I mean…we’re alive. At least. How are you feeling?” 

“Head hurts,” Papillon muttered. “What happened?” 

“The waves tossed you against the boat. Let me know if you start to feel sick. You might have been hurt worse than that headache, but I’d be lying if I said I knew exactly how to tell.” 

Papillon’s hand in his was answer enough. Rough and warm, covered in dried blood from the various wounds they’d amassed during their escape and the trip. It was reassuring though, being able to rub his thumb against the skin, like a tether to let him know it was all real, they were alive, they’d truly made it, he wasn’t hallucinating or dead and dreaming. 

“Think I’ll be okay,” Papillon groaned and sat up. “Did you…haul me all the way up here?” 

“You are welcome for that. You’re quite heavy, all that muscle.” 

“You like all of that muscle though,” Papillon teased. 

“I do. And you can use to carry me for a bit now, whenever we figure where to go next. My ankle is killing me.” 

“Any idea where we are?” 

He opened his eyes at Papillon’s question, to see him sitting up now, the sun rising and hitting him in just the right way. He knew that to anyone else they looked like soaked rats, half-drowned, but to him? Papi looked gorgeous, with the sun illuminating the drops of water yet to dry on his eyelashes, his shirt soaked so much that it might as well not even be there for how see through it is. 

“Louis?” 

He sat up quickly, blushing at Papi’s bark of laughter.

“You were staring.” 

“I was not.” 

“You were all caught up in looking at me. Did you even hear what I asked you?” 

His heart pounded fast as he moved close to Papi. Kissing him hadn’t been his original intended answer, but it was what his body and mind were screaming at him to do, and it seemed just as good as the first answer of ‘I have no idea where we are.’

The kiss hurt, as sore and chapped as their lips were, but he had no complaints as Papi pushed him down softly to the sand, rolled over onto him, and kissed him as if they had nowhere else to be and nothing else to worry about. 

And maybe, for a few moments, he figured they could pretend that, in each other’s arms, kissing and touching while the sun started to heat the sand underneath them. 

It was as a good a start as any to freedom, and one he was more than happy with.


End file.
